


Heaven On Earth

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Restaurant!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven On Earth is a classic, five-star, family run restaurant that caters to the rich and famous. However, the restaurant is not what we're here for. In fact, our story begins with the very people who make Heaven On Earth a possibility. The Novak family, the owners of Heaven On Earth, are dysfunctional enough as it was, but with the addition of two new attractive waiters, the Winchester brothers, their regular crazy becomes downright insane. With the head pastry chef vying for the attention of the younger Winchester and the head waiter falling for the elder, not to mention the longstanding feud between the head chef and sous chef, and throw in the continuous battle with the Health Inspector who was hell-bent on having the restaurant put out of business, it was a huge wonder the restaurant still made it to People Magazine's Top 5 Best Restaurants in the Country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One With The Two New Waiters

**Author's Note:**

> My first SPN fanfic! It's an AU :D

Chuck Novak studied the two boys in front of him, both with forced, ready-to-serve smiles on their faces. According to the resumes laid out in front of him, the boys were brothers, though the similarities in appearance were little. The one on the left, according to the resume, was Sam Winchester. Sam was tall (like really, really tall and Chuck had to tilt his head back just to establish some semblance of eye contact) and sported floppy, dark brown hair that he styled back with just a small amount of gel to keep from getting his bangs in his face.

The one on the right, Sam's brother, was called Dean. Like Sam, Dean was also really tall, but next to his brother, one would assume he was of normal height. Dean had light brown hair, very expressive green eyes and the perpetual bad boy aura about him. Unlike Sam, however, Dean didn't really put much effort into looking presentable for the interview, if the graphic tee, jeans and leather jacket were any indication. Sam wore a nice button down shirt and black pants, obviously trying to look respectable. Chuck likes that about his prospective employees. He likes his waiters to work hard in looking good because they're the ones the customers see often.

Chuck had reviewed their resumes a bit before he met them, and suffice it to say, he was a bit surprised at what he saw. Sam's resume was neat and organized, a testament to the person whose name and picture appeared there, and he even painstakingly listed (in chronological order with dates and everything) all of the schools he attended. Chuck was floored at the amount of schools Sam had attended in a single year. It was the same in Dean's case, however, his resume wasn't as neat and organized as his brother's was. There was obvious effort put into it, but unlike his brother, Dean never stepped foot into college. He graduated high school, got his GED and worked as a mechanic to send Sam to college. Chuck can also respect that. The brothers in front of him were obviously close and shared a bond he never saw with his own sons.

(Well, that was a total lie. In their earlier years, it was physically impossible to wrench Luke away from Michael's side, and they obviously looked after each other, but as the years passed, Luke suddenly wouldn't be caught dead within a five meter radius of Michael. Chuck is still trying to find out when the hell that happened and he still has no answer.)

Anyways, back to where they were. Chuck leaned forward and removed his glasses. "So, boys, let's get this over and done with. You're applying for the waiter jobs I'm presuming."

"Yes, sir." Sam replied, every bit of the polite, Stanford law student that he was.

"Sam, please, call me Chuck. No need for formalities here." He replied with a smile. "In fact, if I had it my way, I would've hired you boys on the spot. I'm only doing this interview so that people won't think I pulled out two random applicants from a stack like a raffle draw. We need the extra hands ASAP, and I was never one for formalities."

"Okay, Chuck," Dean cut in. "So what are we still doing here?"

Chuck replied with a benevolent smile. "I'm sure both of you understand that Heaven On Earth is a five-star restaurant and we are known for our class. We pride ourselves on that fact. I'm most careful in selecting the waiters that work here simply because they're the ones the customers see often. Good waiters equals good reviews and hefty tips. I just wanted to see you boys in person and get to know you a little bit before I hire you. Any questions?"

Dean raised his hand; Chuck acknowledged him. "How much, exactly, are we talkin' here?"

Ah, the typical "How Much Will I Earn" question. Chuck regarded him for a moment before replying. "For a base salary, you will be getting $6,500 monthly. Now, I realize that that is a huge amount of money, and that doesn't include tips yet. Roughly, that equates to $78000 a year. Our customers tip heavily and last year, one of my waiters made a six figure income. Most of our customers are the rich and famous and if you treat them well, I guarantee a hefty tip at the end of the night. There are also Christmas bonuses, end of the year bonuses, etc."

Both looked absolutely floored as Chuck finished talking. Chuck...well, chuckled as he took in their gobsmacked expressions. "Wow." Sam finally voiced out.

"It is a lot to take, isn't it? Remember boys, we're a five star restaurant and we're not cheap. You will earn more than a McDonalds manager. I'm a very generous man when it comes to paychecks." Chuck added. "That is, if you do your job well."

"That's...wow." Sam repeated, Dean still wide-eyed and speechless beside him. Chuck made mental calculations: $6500 monthly plus tips and bonuses would be more than enough to help Sam pay off his student loans. It would leave him with enough money for personal use. In Dean's case, the salary would be much more than what he could possibly be earning at the garage he works at. The combination of two jobs would actually help him pay off rent, bills, and have more than enough for himself.

"So boys, how soon can you start?" Chuck asked. "Does tomorrow sound good?"

They nodded in unison, still processing the information Chuck unloaded on them. Chuck hid a smirk. Most of the waiters/waitresses he's hired had the same expressions on their face and, on one memorable occasion, had hugged him so hard as she cried "thank you"s into his shoulder.

"Great! You boys can time in at 4 pm, just two hours before the dinner rush." Chuck pressed on.

"That's fine."

"Cool."

"Alright then! How about I introduce you two to the staff so you'll get to know them?"

~#~

Sam didn't expect much. When he applied for the waiter job at Heaven On Earth along with his brother, Dean, he only wanted the job just so he could pay off student loans. Stanford was in no way cheap, and as it was, he was having trouble keeping afloat. He didn't have a place of his own as he and Dean shared an apartment, and sadly, they even shared a car. Well, it was Dean's car, but Sam couldn't go anywhere unless Dean drove him. It was kinda pathetic how he'd ask Dean for a ride like a kid asking their dad to take them to the candy shop or something.

So when the manager, Mr. Novak – Chuck – told them how much they'd be earning, Sam was having a little trouble believing what he was hearing. A quick glance at his brother told Sam that Dean was thinking the same thing.

He was also having a little bit trouble believing how well the not-interview was going, but he got a job, and really any dumbass could handle waiting tables.

(He'd soon find out how wrong he was, but that's a story for another time.)

"Alright then! How about I introduce you two to the staff so you'll get to know them?" Chuck was saying.

Sam nodded. "Sure."

"Works for me." Dean added.

"Great! Follow me, fellas." And then Chuck moved from behind the table and Sam couldn't help but notice that the man – the owner and manager of a goddamned five star restaurant that was featured so heavily on People's Magazine and was spoken so highly of by Oprah herself – was quite short in stature. In fact, now that Sam thought about it, Chuck Novak didn't look the type to run a famous restaurant where Robert Downey Jr. ordered his midnight snacks.

Chuck led them out into the main dining area. "I'm sure you boys already know that this restaurant is run by my family and I." He said. "The design scheme was my late wife's idea and well, it just sorta stuck."

Sam looked around the richly decorated area. The theme seemed to be angels, angels and more angels but that was hardly surprising given the name of the place. Figurines of cherubs hung on the pillars and the ceiling depicted a painting of what Sam assumed was heaven with more angels painted in, complete with the whole wings, halos and harps ensemble. There was a fountain at the corner with a statue of a seraph and the four corners of the restaurant were guarded by what Sam assumed were the four Archangels. The ambiance was relaxing – sort of light and airy, and the music that was playing softly out over the speakers was pleasing to Sam's ears. Sam had tried to get a reservation at this place forever ago. He promised his ex, Jess, that he'd try but the too cheerful girl that answered his call told him politely that he could be squeezed into the list in three years at best, but there was no guarantee. Sam had hung up and taken Jess somewhere less expensive that night.

It was 2:30, and the restaurant didn't open until five. They were one of those night time restaurants that catered especially to the dinner rush. Chuck led them to a bar where a tall man was wiping the counter. He wore a very low v-neck and exuded an air of cockiness about him. He looked up and grinned at the sight of them. "Well, hello, what do we have here?"

"Balthazar, I want you to meet our two new waiters, Sam and Dean Winchester." Chuck said. "Sam, Dean, this is Balthazar, my nephew. He's our bartender and is in charge of all the drinks."

"Bon jour, messiers." Balthazar greeted them with a faux French accent. "Chuck, don't tell me you're going to introduce them to the family! They'll get eaten alive!"

"I'm sure my boys can behave themselves." Chuck replied though he didn't sound so sure of himself.

Balthazar raised an eyebrow before turning to face Sam and Dean. "A word of advice, fellas, when you meet Lucifer, don't fall for his smooth talk."

"Lucifer?" Dean questioned, clearly amused.

"A joke. His real name is Luke but when he's being especially evil, which is all the time, we tend to call him Lucifer." Balthazar replied, an amused smirk directed at Chuck. "Our family is sort of religious and Uncle Chuckie here fancies himself God. He's named all his sons after angels."

"Alright then!" Chuck interrupted loudly. "Come on boys, I will introduce you to the ones in the kitchen."

"It was nice to meet you, Balthazar." Sam said, shaking the guy's hand.

"Pleasure's all mine...Sam, isn't it?" Sam nodded. "Well, Sam, it was nice knowing you. You and your brother."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean demanded.

Balthazar grinned. "Oh you'll find out soon. Good luck."

He waved cheerily at them and Chuck steered them away from the grinning bartender who went back to cleaning his station. They were led to the double doors that no doubt led to the kitchen.

Sam half-expected to walk in and see the chefs all hard at work, all serious and whatnot, preparing their stations for the dinner rush that night. However, when a slab of dough sailed over his head and hit someone to his far left, he knew he made a mistake.

"Gabriel, I swear to God I will end you, you piece of shit!" Someone screeched and Sam turned to see a dark haired guy peeling off dough from his clothes, looking absolutely murderous.

"Well maybe if _someone_ didn't _accidentally_ spill all the vanilla all over that dough, I wouldn't have done it, Raph!" Sam glanced to his right and saw a shorter man with slick, dirty blond hair and expressive amber eyes. Sam's first thought was _Oh, he's cute._ "And don't even deny it! I saw you!"

"Well, I wouldn't have done it if _someone_ didn't _accidentally_ knock the soup over!"

"That was Luke!

"Hey!" Another man, this time with strawberry blond hair peeking out from his toque, piped up from his corner of the kitchen. "Don't go dragging me into your mess." But the smirk on his face told Sam that he definitely had something to do with the food fight.

Chuck sighed, exasperated, turning to them with a look of "Oh-my-god-I'm-so-sorry-you-had-to-see-that-I-can't-believe-I-sired-these-assholes-I'm-so-embarassed" before clearing his throat loudly, prompting the chefs to all jump and turn around.

"He started it!" Amber eyes – Gabriel – immediately shouted, pointing to who Sam assumed was Raph.

"Nuh uh, you started it!"

"What are you, five?"

"Screw you!"

"Maybe later, big boy."

"Boys!" Chuck shouted, causing both men to cower like children. "I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it. I expected this kind of crap from Luke and Gabriel, but you, Raphael? I want all of you to fix this immediately as we have exactly two hours until we open. Where's Michael?"

"Out back, crying into his toque like always." Luke deadpanned. "He couldn't handle the mess."

"Well bring him back in. I want all of you to meet our two new waiters – that is if you haven't scared them off yet." Chuck grumbled, glancing up at him and Dean. Sam gave a reassuring smile that no, they weren't scared. Yet.

"That them?" Gabriel asked, gesturing to them with a wooden spoon, the anger in his eyes replaced with thinly-veiled interest. In fact, they were roving over Sam like he was the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

No, scratch that. They were roving over Sam like he was a scared little gazelle and Gabriel was a tiger, ready to pounce.

Sam resisted the urge to gulp.

"Yes." Chuck bit out.

"Well, hello." Luke practically slithered out of his station and leered at them, looking rather pedophilic than flirty. From the corner of his eyes, Sam could see Gabriel rolling his.

"Down, Luke." A girl – a red head – spoke up. "Don't scare off the new attractive waiters just yet."

Luke looked affronted. "Why, my darling Anael, I was merely saying hello."

"Fuck you." She spat. "You know I hate it when you use my full name Lucifer."

"Hence, the reason I use it." Luke replied with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Anyways," Chuck said loudly just as Raphael ushered another dark haired man into the kitchen. "Boys, and girl, I would like all of you to meet our two new waiters – Sam and Dean Winchester. Sam, Dean, this is Michael, my eldest."

"And head chef." The man whom Raphael had ushered in smiled widely, head tilted back to show an air of affluence about him.

"And don't forget pretentious douchebag!" Luke added.

Michael glared murderously at him and Chuck sighed.

"And I'm Luke." The man was suddenly in their space, shaking Sam's hand enthusiastically, pointedly ignoring Dean beside him. "I'm sure we'll both work wonderfully together. Horizontal or vertical, your choice." And he winked exaggeratedly, making Sam feel more uncomfortable than he already is.

Suddenly, Luke was being shoved out of the way and Sam was looking down at whom he's already come to know as Gabriel. Gabriel didn't shake his hand so much as holding it close in his palm. "And they call me Gabriel. Sam Winchester, right?" Sam nodded. "Well, Sam, I have a feeling we'll be really tight. If you know what I mean." He then waggled his eyebrows suggestively that Sam had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat.

"I'm Raphael." The one with flour all over his clothes said with his lip curled up slightly. He didn't even go to shake their hands. "It's nice to meet you."

"And I'm Anna." The redhead piped up from the side. She smiled at them. "I guess you two are better than the last ones we had. Trust me, they were absolutely horrible, and ugly-looking to boot."

"Thanks...I think." Dean replied.

"Well, I'm glad we meet your standards." Sam said, chuckling slightly.

"Oh, baby, believe me, you go above and beyond our standards." Gabriel purred, grinning lasciviously.

"Alright that's about enough of that." Chuck interrupted. "Dean, Sam, I'll be introducing you to your immediate superior. Come with me."

"Bye, Sam-I-Am!" Gabriel crowed out.

"Looks like you got a not-so-secret admirer there, Sammy." Dean teased.

"Shut up, jerk."

"Bitch."

They left the kitchen, Dean and Sam trailing a few steps behind Chuck. The bearded man led them to another room next to his office which looked like the employee lounge, if the huge 64" plasma screen TV was any indicator. The moment they entered, they inhaled a lungful of smoke.

"Castiel, how many times have I told you to stop smoking inside? If you want to smoke, please, do it outside. Put that out now." Chuck berated the dark haired man that was seated in the far corner of the room, holding a nearly burnt out cigarette in his hand. The man – Castiel, Sam was assuming – rolled his eyes before putting out the cigarette in an ash tray.

"Thank you." Chuck said. "Castiel, I want you to meet our new employees: Sam and Dean Winchester. They'll be working directly under you. Sam, Dean, this is my youngest, Castiel."

"I'm the head waiter." Castiel said in a raspy voice that sounded like a poor imitation of Batman. "I'm guessing you're the new ones?"

"That's right." Dean replied instantly.

"I do hope you're more competent than the last two. You have no idea how much complaints I got because of them." Castiel said.

"We'll try our best not to gather complaints." Sam said.

Castiel eyed them warily before speaking up. "Well, I'm sure we'll do alright. Sam, Dean, it was nice meeting you." He then pushed himself up from the chair and left the room.

"Okay," Chuck finally said, elongating the _–ay_ a bit. He turned to the brothers with a wide smile on his face. "So, we'll be seeing you tomorrow then?"

"You got it, Chuck." Dean replied.

"We'll be here."

"Wonderful! I'll see you boys tomorrow."

And with that, Chuck left the room.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other for a while, wondering what the hell did they drag themselves into this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes guys, I'm very well aware that $6500 for a waiter job seems a bit too much, but it's my story and I do what I want! *insert Loki laughing maniacally as he speeds away in an SUV gif here*


	2. The One Where Gabriel Is In Love (Denial)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Chapter 2! I'm on a roll :D
> 
> Here's the second chapter thus far. I'm only copying it from my account in FF.net

Waiting tables, Dean decided five minutes into the job, was difficult as Hell.

In a brief moment of insanity, Dean actually thought he'd prefer Hell to this.

So far, he's stumbled five times, groped three times by desperate, rich little old ladies who wave their money around like they were reminding everyone of their status in life, barged into a table corner twice, and actually managed to trip over air and bring Sam down with him in the process. It was a good thing they were only carrying dirty dishes back to the kitchen, or else, they really would've been in trouble.

That wasn't the only problem. The uniforms they had to wear were very constrictive – a white button-up shirt, black slacks, a bow tie and an apron that seemed to be just a thin strip of cloth that covered his crotch area only. He felt more like a Chippendales dancer than a waiter that moment. Dean felt like he stepped out of a special issue of Playgirl. It wasn't pretty.

The fact that Castiel's been eyeing him since the dinner rush started wasn't helping much, either.

Sam, Dean noted with sadistic pleasure, wasn't faring much better. The moment that customers started flooding in, his little brother's been rather flustered and awkward, which, combined with his huge size, was really bad. To cut long story short, there was a lot of flailing involved, tiptoeing, and ultimately tripping over invisible stuff causing him to barge into Dean more than once.

It was just half past-ten when the customers actually started thinning out (some of them didn't even bother to stay and wait for their meal, the pretentious assholes) and Dean finally got to actually take a deep breath. He staggered back to the waiters' station where Castiel was ringing up the bill of one customer. The blue-eyed man glanced at him, lips pressed in a tight line.

"I know, I know. I suck at waiting tables." Dean said before Castiel could open his mouth. "I'll pay for the broken plates, I promise.

Castiel tilted his head. "Quite the contrary. You fared much better than the last one we had. Ten minutes into his shift, he threatened to quit. He had, shall we say, quite a colorful vocabulary of swear words." He said. "He stood on the fountain and shouted at every single customer that night. Father was _this_ close to firing him." He added, pinching his forefinger and thumb close together to demonstrate just how close that guy was to being jobless.

"What, really?"

Castiel nodded. "He lasted six turbulent months before slapping his letter of resignation down a month ago on father's desk. You'll manage just fine. Don't worry about the plates. They're easily replaceable."

Dean cracked a grin at that. "Thanks. Just what I needed to hear."

"I'm your superior. It is my job to encourage you." Was all Castiel said before going over to a customer (was that Jensen Ackles?) and handing him his bill.

Dean watched him leave before picking up his tray and going over to where Luke was bellowing for a waiter to "Get this goddamn filet mignon to the goddamn prick who ordered it before it gets cold, goddamnit."

Well, he didn't say it in those exact words, but Dean was an expert in reading between the lines. He was pretty sure if Luke did say those words out loud, either Chuck or Michael would castrate him. Sure enough, when he listened closely, there was the tell-tale sign of someone hitting someone in the kitchen. He just wasn't sure if it was Michael or Chuck who did the hitting.

Much, much later, just ten minutes after closing time, he and Sam gravitated towards the bar where a tired-looking but grinning Balthazar offered them each a shot of vodka. "You two looked like you need a break." Was all he said. Dean flashed him a grateful look and took the shot, letting the liquid burn down his throat. It was amazing.

"Oh you have no idea." Sam replied, eyeing the shotglass warily. "And you know what's hilarious? I actually thought waiting tables would be easy."

"You picked the busiest, fanciest, most expensive restaurant in California to work for." Balthazar deadpanned. "You are bound to get real tired. Drink your vodka. I promise it's not poison."

"That doesn't really assure me." Sam said but took the shot anyways.

Balthazar then chuckled. "Well, if it's any consolation, you two did manage to get through the night without any untoward events."

"Are you kidding me? People left because of us." Dean snorted.

Balthazar scoffed. "People leave all the time. Remember, some of our customers are pretentious asshats who expect to be treated like they hung the bloody moon. If they think they've been treated shoddily, then they leave. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. We do our ultimate best here. It's not your fault anymore if they think the service here is sub par to their expectations."

"Damn right it isn't." A voice behind Sam piped up, causing the younger Winchester to yelp and whirl around. Gabriel sat on the bar stool next to Sam while munching on a Twix bar. "Trust me, kiddo. I've been in the food business for almost ten years now. I've learned not to be disappointed when customers throw my tarts back at me and claim the most outrageous insect infestation on them even if it was just a tiny ant that loved sugar."

"Yeah, but how did you deal when you started out?" Sam asked.

"Honestly?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow before shoving the rest of the Twix bar in his mouth. "I grew up in the business kiddo. Growing up in the food industry actually makes you more immune to the big bad world out there. You get used to hearing criticism and bad comments and shoving them back into the mouths of the people who said it. In due time, you'll be able to handle it. Pretty face like yours? You'll have the ladies – and maybe the gentlemen falling to their knees. God knows I'm willing to get down on mine for you." He finishes with a flirty grin and Sam promptly chokes on air.

"E-excuse me?" Sam stutters.

"I mean, look at you! All six feet of tall, dark, and smokingly handsome." Gabriel ploughs on. "And your face. Dear God, if we put your face on billboards everywhere, maybe we could actually have world peace! I wouldn't mind if we made a little peace between ourselves in the storage room, if you get what I mean."

Silence stretched on before Sam lifted his eyes up to look at Gabriel. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Depends. Is it working?"

"No," Sam began. "You're a horrible flirt."

Balthazar tips his head back and laughs. Hard. The noise echoes throughout the dining hall and literally thirty seconds later, he's laughing noiselessly, wheezing and clapping like a retarded seal. Gabriel glowers at him and Sam looks like he missed something important.

"You have to forgive Gabriel." Anna speaks up as she entered the dining hall, removing her flour-stained apron. "He doesn't have a flirty bone in his body."

"Excuse you, I am a great flirt. How do you think I managed to bed Kali?"

"You blackmailed her?" Balthazar squeaks out.

"Fuck you, Balthy. At least I don't fuck everything that breathes." Gabriel retorts.

"At least I have sex!" Balthazar cackles. "You – you don't!"

Anna turns to Sam and Dean with a fond, exasperated look on her face. "Don't worry. You'll get used to the madness. Eventually."

"Are you guys always like this?" Dean asks. "Crazy nuts." He adds under his breath.

"Oh, sweetie believe me, this is mild." Anna replies with a serene smile. "You two still have no idea how crazy we can get. You've never seen the royal rumble between Mike and Luke yet, so I'm guessing you have three days with your sanity intact."

"You're being too generous, Anna." Castiel suddenly materializes out of fucking nowhere causing Dean to yelp and fall off the stool. Castiel glances at him for a second before holding his hand out to help Dean up. "I say they have a day at most to remain sane."

"Oh I'm so touched at your faith in me." Dean snipes, but taking the offered hand anyways.

Castiel merely holds his gaze, electric blue eyes burning a hole into Dean's soul and wasn't that just so damn poetic?

"Dean?" Sam speaks out tentatively, causing Dean to tear his gaze away and look at Sam.

"What?"

"Can we go now? I have class early tomorrow." Sam replies.

That caught Gabriel's interest. "You're a student?"

Sam nodded. "I'm studying law. Stanford. That's why I took the job here – to help me pay for the tuition."

"Oh my God." Anna says with a huge smile. "If there's anything else that turns Gabriel on, it's intelligence, and you seem to have that in spades. His last girlfriend, Kali? She was a neurosurgeon and Chief of the Neurology department at the hospital she worked at."

Sam squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, looking between Anna who had a shit-eating grin on her face and Gabriel who was looking at Sam like he changed his whole stance on life by just being a law student. He then turns to Dean with pleading eyes. "Can we go now?"

Dean nods once and Sam follows him to the door.

"See you lads tomorrow!" Balthazar shouts out. "That is if you don't pack up and go AWOL."

"You better be back." Anna threatens. "We haven't had good eye-candy in here in a long time."

"We'll try our best." Sam says with a sheepish smile. "Good night!"

They all chorused "Good night" back at him and with that, he closed the door.

~#~

In all of his years as a five-star pastry chef, Gabriel hasn't seen perfection. He didn't see perfection in the pastries he made, nor did he see perfection in any of the customers that walked in through the doors. Sure they were A-list actors and grammy winners, but meeting them was always a huge disappointment. Make up and camera angles can do a person wonders.

So yeah, Gabriel didn't see perfection. And he was so close to believing it didn't exist.

Well, until Sam Winchester walked into the kitchen just a day ago.

Sam was – for lack of better term – perfect, if he was being honest with himself. Gabriel could list an entire dictionary of adjectives just to describe Sam, but it all boils down to one word – perfect. Perfect hair, perfect height, perfect eyes, perfect body, perfect smile, perfect nose, perfect everything. Sure he's only seen Sam in a physical sense, but dear God above, if he ever got close to the boy, he wonders just how perfect he can be. If Gabriel were being cliche, he would've said Sam fell out of heaven and straight into his life.

And then of course, Sam had to go and become a law student! As if he could get any more perfect. Gabriel loved smart people. He loved to listen when smart people talked. It was a huge turn on for him.

He's sure as hell of one thing though – Sam Winchester made him believe in perfection again.

"Oh god, he's in love." Anna's voice cut in through his thoughts. Gabriel startles out of his mind and turns to look at Anna.

"Excuse me?"

"Who's in love?" Luke walks out of the kitchen and tosses his apron haphazardly on the bar. Balthazar glares at him for that.

"Gabriel, apparently." He growls out. He picks up the dirty apron and flings it across the room where it lands on the face of the statue of the archangel Michael. Michael comes out just as this happens and trains his glare on Balthazar who schooled his expression into one of innocence. The eldest Novak just huffs and makes his way to the employee lounge.

Gabriel scoffs, pretending to look affronted. "Excuse you, I am not in love."

"The goo-goo eyes and the horrible flirting say differently." Anna pipes up. She turns to Luke. "He's gone moon-eyed over Sam Winchester."

"Aww!" Luke coos. He pinches Gabriel's cheek who swats his hand away. "My little Gabby's fallen in wuv!"

"Shut up, I am not in love."

"On the contrary. You seem to have a particular affinity for Sam." Castiel says from his spot.

"See!" Balthazar says excitedly. "Even Castiel can see you have the hots for him and we know Cassie's one of the most oblivious persons alive!"

Castiel narrows his eyes at Balthazar.

"Yeah well, Castiel's a stoic ass!" Gabriel retorts.

"Hey!" Castiel shouts, clearly offended.

"Anyways," Anna interrupts loudly before they continue their childish spat. "Isn't he too young for you?"

"Oh sure, rag me on my age. I'm only thirty five, fuck you very much." Gabriel growls out. "He's what, twenty two? Twenty three at the latest?"

"So you admit you wanna get on with him?" Anna asks. "He's legal."

Gabriel splutters. "N – no! I don't! And besides, what if I do? I'm sure we have some policy against dating co-workers."

"Actually we don't." Castiel replies. "Since we're all relatives working here, I highly doubt a policy such as that would be put into effect. What are the odds we start dating each other?"

"Will you all stop it!" Gabriel grumbles. "I am not in love!"

"Look, Sam came back!" Anna shrieks.

Gabriel whips his head around. "Where?"

That sends everyone howling with laughter. Even Castiel cracked a grin.

"Oh I hate all of you. I'm going home and I will drown my sorrows with a tub of Ben & Jerry's and you're not invited!" Gabriel huffs, grabs his coat and leaves dramatically, slamming the front door on his way out.

"Aww, poor Gabey! He's gonna go all emo on us again!" Luke mocks. Gabriel comes back to flip him off before leaving again.

"Think we were too hard on him?" Castiel asks.

Balthazar, Luke and Anna all looked at each other. "Nah." They said in unison.


	3. The One With The Health Inspector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's summer vacation where I'm at so expect some frequent updates :) I do not have a definite schedule, but I promise I will add new chapters. 
> 
> And yes, Chicken Cinnamon is a dish. I googled it.

When Luke was born, Michael was beside himself with glee. He became the ultimate big brother, vowing at four years old that he will protect Luke come what may. He took that vow seriously as they were growing up. Michael adored Luke, doted on him constantly, and Luke preened as Michael's attention was lavished upon him. Chuck's never seen that kind of brotherly love before. And for a long time, he never did. Raphael never received the same kind of attention from Michael. Neither did Gabriel nor Castiel. Michael payed attention to them, sure, as part of his big brother responsibilities, but most of his attention was centered on Luke who really, really wasn't complaining.

Well, until Michael left for college.

Luke was just entering high school when Michael packed his bags and headed for Culinary School in Bumfuck, Nowhere, USA. (Okay, New York, but Luke felt that it was an eternity and a day away.)

High school was a nightmare for Luke who just turned fourteen and started experiencing puberty. He got facial acne to a horrendous degree that people picked on him for it. What's worse was that he didn't have the cool older brother to look out for him. Raphael was only eleven at the time, Gabriel was nine and Castiel, the surprise child, was only two and Luke had absolutely no idea how to be a big brother to them. He talked to Michael who was practically on the other side of the world, accessible only through e-mail and phone. For a year, Luke religiously called Michael but contact slowly dwindled and out of the blue, Luke abruptly stopped calling. Michael tried to reinstate contact but Luke went as far as changing his number so that Michael would stop calling. In a way, Luke blamed Michael for leaving him to the dogs. Michael couldn't protect him all the way from New York. From Luke's perspective, Michael left him to fend for himself. Luke hated that. He started becoming aggressive, dark and started having more mood swings than a pregnant woman. His "difficult" phase worried both his parents and his younger siblings, and Luke slowly spiraled into deep loathing of just about everything.

When Michael came back home for the summer vacation, Luke had stopped talking to him altogether. This baffled the older Novak as he attempted to regain the closeness they once had to the point that he started suffocating Luke. He started lavishing him with attention again, so much so that he made it a point to know every minute detail of Luke's life. The more he pushed, the more Luke pulled away. The more he asserted his authority, the more Luke thought of him as a dickhead. Things got very tense between them and one day, when Michael pushed a little too hard, Luke snapped. Ever since then, they've been at each other's throats. Luke thought Michael was a self-righteous asshole and had no qualms about letting him know, and Michael began thinking of Like as a spoiled, self-absorbed brat.

So, really, that explained all the shouting in the kitchen right now.

Okay, maybe the chicken cinnamon disaster had something to do with it.

"...stupid! You are the most immature person I have ever had the pleasure of working with! Who the hell puts _cumin_ in _chicken cinnamon?!_ Oh that's right, _Luke_ does!"

"You said put cumin! I was only following orders you self-righteous dick!" Luke shot back.

"I said CINNAMON! CIN-NA-MON. Get the difference? And I told you to bake it to 350 degrees. This is so undercooked, I can still hear the chicken clucking!" Michael shouted until he was red in the face, gesturing angrily to the dish in between them.

"Woah, chill Gordon Ramsey," Gabriel began.

"Shut up, Gabriel!" Michael and Luke shouted at the same time, prompting Gabriel to hold his hands up in defense.

"What's going on?" Dean appeared beside him, wiping his hands on his slacks which earned him a disgusted look from Sam.

"Oh, it's nothing." Gabriel said nonchalantly, examining his fingernails. "Just World War number...you know what, I lost count in '93."

"You mean the Apocalypse." Anna pipes up from where she was standing, elbows deep in pie dough.

"Nah, this is mild. The Apocalypse involves so much more than fighting over wrong ingredients." Gabriel says.

"Wait, you name their fights?" Sam asks, the expressions on his face warring between amusement, confusion and revulsion. It's not clear which emotion was winning, but it did a great job of making Sam look constipated.

Gabriel looks up at him. "Yep. There's the cold war, the civil war, the world war, and finally, the Apocalypse."

Sam stares at him for a moment before speaking up. "Okay, I have a feeling I'm already gonna regret this, but what exactly do those entail?"

"The cold war is where the don't talk for MONTHS. Emphasis on MONTHS." Gabriel replies, unwrapping a sucker. " The civil war is where every other word from their mouth is an insult or a jab. You're currently seeing the world war and trust me, you do NOT want to witness the Apocalypse. It'll leave you scarred." He adds, looking up at Sam. "I was witness to it once. Never was the same." He shudders, twirling the sucker in his mouth.

"Yeah," Sam says dubiously. "I bet you weren't."

Gabriel winks at him, grinning around the sucker. Sam pointedly looks away.

"So, this is still...what, normal?" Dean asks, gesturing to the shouting pair.

"Welcome to our life." Anna says with a grin.

Dean opened his mouth to reply when Balthazar came bursting through the kitchen doors with a look of pure panic on his face. "He's here." He said ominously.

All of a sudden, as if flipping a switch, Michael and Luke stopped shouting at each other and turned around to face Balthazar in tandem. "HE'S here?"

"Battle stations, men." Balthazar replied with a serious look on his face. "We're going into war."

All of a sudden, the kitchen became alive with activity. Gabriel had gotten rid of his sucker and was back to his station, barking orders at Anna who complied. Michael, Luke and Raphael went back to their respective stations and started working together in unison ...cleaning.

"What's going on?" Dean whispered to Sam who didn't get a chance to reply as they were yanked back out of the kitchen and promptly pulled into the waiters' station.

"Dude, what the hell!" Dean hisses as Castiel starts fixing their uniforms. He smoothed out imaginary wrinkles and fixed their aprons which, in Dean's case anyways, made Castiel's hand move closer to his crotch than he was comfortable with. "Uh, Cas?"

"Shut up, and let me fix your appearances. Sam, please, fix your hair. Dean, look happy." Castiel snapped as he tucked their shirts into their slacks. If his fingers grazed Dean Jr, well, no one was commenting on it.

"Castiel, what's going on?" Sam asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to keep it down. Why, though?

Castiel looks up at them with his unimpressed stare. He then forcefully turns them around. "Do you see that man in the suit?"

Dean doesn't know which man in the suit he's talking about. "Cas, there are about fifteen men in suits here. Who are you talking about?"

"That man," Castiel grits through his teeth. "By the window, examining the flatware."

It takes a while but eventually, they spot him. The man had a smarmy air about him and, though he was short in stature, carried himself effortlessly. He swiped a finger over the plate, examined it, scrunched his nose up in disgust before clicking a pen and scribbled something onto a clipboard. "Is he a food critic?" Dean asks.

"Worse. That's the Health Inspector." Castiel replies in an ominous voice, as if the Health Inspector was in the same league as the Devil. "He's always had it out for us, trying to force us to close on the most bogus claims. Last time, it was because he found a stray cat in the alleyway and told people we made our food with cat hair."

"That's...I don't even know what to say to that." Dean finishes.

"Do you want us to...serve him?" Sam ventures out.

To say Castiel looked scandalized was putting it mildly. "No. I want both of you to stay out of the way. I'll handle him."

In Dean's opinion, Castiel was telling them this like it was a top secret government espionage case or whatever and that they were expected to sneak around wielding their trays and everything while whispering into some secret earpiece. Castiel would make a great James Bond. He could pull off the whole tuxedo-wearing-sunglasses-indoors gig, if he was being perfectly honest.

"Are you sure?" Sam asks again, glancing quickly at the Health Inspector. "I mean, can we help in anyway?"

"No. Just please, no accidents, no spills, no nothing. Don't give him a reason to find something. Cause he will. And can you just imagine the legal battle?"

Sam nodded. "Alright. We'll be on our best behavior."

Castiel relaxed a bit. "Thank you. Now go!"

~#~

Fergus Crowley McLeod.

That name never failed to inspire fear among the weak of heart. Children have been reported to cry in his presence. Men have been reduced to almost nothing by a mere look. Plants and animals have been known to part whenever he passes, and it's been said that his glare could incinerate you so it's best to not make eye contact at all.

It's also been said that he's ruthless and as The Health Inspector, if he saw something he didn't like – whether it's a tiny spot on the glass window or a tiny rat scurrying behind the dumpster – he will not hesitate to have the place closed on the spot.

Castiel knew all of this but unlike some people, (cough, Gabriel, cough) he could hold a faux-hostile conversation with the man and not get blown up.

It goes a little like this: Heaven On Earth has had an ongoing battle with the Health Inspector for many years now – even before Castiel started working there – and they were known to be the one restaurant that managed to stay afloat despite the barrage of accusations against them, most of which weren't even true. Legend says that the animosity ran deep between Chuck Novak and Fergus Crowley McLeod. It was an animosity so deep that it fueled Crowley's crusade to have them shut down. And he will stop at nothing until he does.

The fact that Luke and Gabriel pranked the guy also had something to do with the Health Inspector's vendetta against them.

When Castiel walks over to him, the man looks up with an evil grin on his face. "Ah, Castiel. The man I just wanted to see. I've heard from a friend who heard from a friend who heard from some patrons that you have hired new...waiters." He said the last word like it was poison to him and perhaps, in his world, it was. "Let's switch things up a bit today, hm? Perhaps your new waiters can...service me?"

Castiel kept his face stoic and void of emotion, though his eyes widened just a fraction. "They're fairly new to the establishment. I do not wish to bring due pressure upon them this soon."

Crowley tutted. "I demand to see these new waiters and what better way to do that than to have them service me? I have grown weary of your face, Castiel, seeing as you're the only one brave enough to be my waiter, but I wish to see a new face. Surely, you understand?"

Castiel bit his tongue to keep from lashing out. "Of course. Let me talk to them."

"Take as much time as you need. Meanwhile," he pauses. "Please have this table reserved. I wish to inspect the establishment and I do not want anyone else sitting here. Do we have an agreement?"

Castiel resists the urge to whack this guy around the head. "It shall be waiting for you." He whips out a Reserved sign and sticks it to the centerpiece. "Excuse me."

He all but runs back towards Dean and Sam.

~#~

"You want us to what?!" Dean hisses.

"You want them to what?!" Michael hisses as well.

"Are you insane?!" Gabriel adds. "He'll chop them up, quarter them and eat them for lunch with a side serving of fries and bacon! And strawberry pie ala mode!"

"Wow, you really know how to boost a man's self – esteem." Sam deadpanned, turning to glare at Gabriel.

"Sorry, sweetums, but you know how it is."

"Stop calling me that!"

The shouting continues and Castiel decides to just give up and stomps out of the backdoor into the alleyway. He looks around for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes and his special lighter. He turned the pack over in his hand slightly before drawing a cigarette and sticking it into his mouth. He lit it up, took a drag before blowing the smoke out into the warm, summer air. He did this repeatedly until the cigarette was nothing but a pile of ashes that he crushed beneath his expensive, hand-made, Italian, leather shoes.

He pulled out another cigarette and repeated the procedure. He sighed deeply before puffing smoke out. Somehow, watching the smoke rise into the sky was relaxing.

_"Stress smoking again?"_ He chided himself, staring at the pack. _"Face it, Castiel. You're an addict."_

The door opened and Castiel whirled around to see Dean standing there with a painful expression on his face. "Can I help you?" He asks, pocketing the cigarettes.

"Yeah. Uh, you can tell us what to do when we face Crowley. Dude's waiting out there and is probably plotting our downfall as we speak." Dean replies before scrunching his nose up. "Dude, did you smoke out here?"

There was no use denying it, really. "I find it relaxing."

Dean stares at him for a moment and Castiel forgets how to look away. Who had eyes that green? Seriously, those eyes cannot be natural. They're like...emeralds or some stone equally beautiful.

"Well, whatever man. It's your life." Dean finally speaks up. "Can you just please help us?"

Castiel nods. "I'll do the best I can to make sure you and your brother do not stumble."

Dean's lips quirk up in a half-smile and he claps Castiel on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."

~#~

"I daresay, I find nothing to report." Crowley begins in a slow, condescending tone. "Everything is in perfect working order and there are no vermin anywhere." He pauses. "Well, aside from the obvious in the kitchen." He eyes them all with great disdain, starting at Michael and ending at Sam like they were bugs that he frequently steps on with his very expensive boots.

"However, the two waiters were...a surprise." He turns to Castiel. "You've trained them well."

Castiel's eyes widened a fraction. For Fergus Crowley McLeod to say that was a huge compliment in itself.

"But mark my words," Crowley wasn't done yet apparently. Castiel glanced at his companions to see that Luke was barely restraining himself and if Crowley kept yammering about, Luke will not hesitate to strangle the living daylights out of the man. Even if it did mean foreclosure. "This is not the end. I will have this establishment closed one of these days and there is nothing you kiddies can do about it."

He left the restaurant in a flurry of black robes and arrogance. For a while, nobody said anything and really, no one was willing to acknowledge the growing tension between all of them.

"Well, this is seriously making me want to kill myself."

Except Balthazar.

They all lifted their eyes to glare at him and Balthazar raised his hands up in sarcastic surrender.

"Well, one good thing came out of this." Michael began. "We still get to operate for another few months."

"Why don't you guys sue him?" Sam speaks out. "He's a real jerk from what I can see."

Gabriel looks at him with his _aww, isn't he precious?_ face. "It's not that easy, Sambear. He'll fight back and Fergus Crowley McLeod - insert dramatic music here - fights dirty. He'll pull out every stunt in the book until we're nothing. Until this whole restaurant is nothing."

"He's right." Chuck suddenly appears and they all jump except for Michael. "Crowley has...shall we say, a personal vendetta against all of us. He wants nothing more than to see us close before he dies."

"What's his problem anyways?" Dean asks, afraid of the answer.

"Well, he and I were rivals in Culinary School actually." Chuck speaks up. "I guess he was always jealous of me. He dropped out of Culinary School and became a Health Inspector instead. It's more than that, though."

All eyes lift towards Luke and Gabriel who both looked overly offended. "What?" They squawk out.

"One day, Luke thought it'd be funny to put sliced ghost chili in Crowley's food." Anna began.

"When Crowley ate it, suffice it to say he ran around the restaurant and practically drank a months worth of milk just to get the hotness off his tongue." Balthazar intones.

"As if that wasn't enough, Gabriel had to go and slather peanut butter all over Crowley's dessert." Michael adds.

"And apparently, Crowley was extremely allergic to peanuts and we nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock." Raphael said.

"He took it personally and vowed vengeance against us." Castiel added.

"We said we were sorry." Luke cries out in mock hurt. "We didn't know he was the Health Inspector."

"Yeah, how were we to know?" Gabriel adds. "It wasn't like he was carrying a huge neon sign that said _Health Inspector: Do not Prank."_

"You don't prank customers, Gabriel!" Michael screeches out. "You just don't!"

Dean and Sam backed away slowly until they were closer to Anna who was watching everything with an amused smirk on her face.

"So," Dean begins. "Is this the ultimate crazy?" He asks.

She shakes her head and grins up at him. "This is nowhere near. Believe me."


	4. The One Where Sam Starts To Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! I had a bit of difficulty with this one as my brain refused to spout of ideas. I'm not happy with it at all, but that's just my opinion. Maybe you guys will like it. *fingers crossed*
> 
> Oh, and forgive me for the too many Sabriel interactions! I'll have Destiel scenes next, I promise!

The whole debacle with the Health Inspector earned Sam and Dean the respect of almost everyone. _Almost_ being the key word. Raphael still refuses to be civil to them and Sam really wonders what crawled up his ass and died. Gabriel told him that Raphael was a purebred asshole from the day he was born so it would be best for Sam's sanity not to question the order of things in the universe otherwise there would be a cosmic unbalancing of things and everything would explode.

Sam just stared at him, wondering what the hell Gabriel was snorting and if it was illegal.

Two weeks have passed since him and Dean were hired at Heaven On Earth and the only thing Sam could come up with to describe the family was "Bat-shit crazy." It was like he teleported himself into a bad sitcom, only to have him as a main character as well. He could almost hear the canned laughter everytime something ridiculously stupid happens within the walls of the restaurant.

So yeah, Sam was on the brink of insanity and one small nudge could have him tipping over. Between school, and work and helping out at the garage whenever he can, it wasn't really surprising that his stress levels were off the charts.

To handle the stress, Sam would do what he always did: Take a bath. Dean could call him gay for all he cared, but there was just something relaxing about frolicking in a strawberry scented bubble bath despite the cramped tub. It calmed his inner zen and for half an hour, everyday, Sam would just forget about his problems and relax. He would put sliced cucumbers on his eyes if he could get away with it but the thought of Dean sneaking in, taking a picture and posting it on the internet with the caption "My little sister, Samantha" was the only thing preventing him from doing so.

Dean had gone out and Sam took the golden opportunity to have his relaxing bath without hearing mockery through the door. He drew a nice, warm bath and dumped about half a bottle of strawberry scented bubble bath into it and turned off the tap just when the tub was about to overflow with bubbles. Sam quickly stripped before stepping into the tub and relaxing his cramped, overworked muscles.

He was just about to get comfortable when his phone rang shrilly. Sam sat up, sopping wet, bubbles cascading down his chest and murder intent on his mind as he reached over and grabbed his phone. "What?" He snapped, not bothering to look at the number.

"Did I call at a bad time? Are you having sex with someone over there?"

Sam closed his eyes, counted to ten before replying. "Gabriel. How did you get my number?"

"I stole your phone and took it!" Came the cheeky reply. "I even entered mine into yours."

"Why?" Sam was losing his patience and if he didn't climb into the tub _right now_ there will be Hell to pay.

Gabriel shrugged. "Just wanted to have a new phone buddy, that's all."

Sam tries not to blow up. Instead, he steps back into the tub and settles comfortably. The water overflowed from the sides and he wasn't surprised that Gabriel picked it up.

"Are you in the shower?"

"No, I'm taking a nice, long bubble bath."

"Ooh la la. Naked?"

"No, I'm wearing my jeans right now. Of course I'm naked!" Sam snapped.

Gabriel giggled like the immature brat that he was. Honestly, Sam couldn't believe the man was thirty five.

"Gabriel was there a reason you called or are did you just want to know if I bathe naked or not?"

"Well, now that you mention I called...uh...to ask you if uhm...wanted to come over to taste some new desserts I wanna suggest to the menu?" Gabriel sounded reluctant and Sam almost had a clear image of him twirling the cord of the phone while biting his lip. He restrained himself from laughing.

"This isn't some elaborate prank is it?" He settled back down into the bubbles, watching as they floated into the air before popping.

Gabriel, as expected, took extreme offense in that. "Why, Sammy! You think I would prank you? How dare...of course it's not a prank!"

"Mhm," Sam mumbled into the phone. "And I was born yesterday."

Gabriel made a noise akin to a puppy being kicked.

"Look," Sam began tiredly. "I just wanna relax right now. I'm in a bubble bath and I don't want to think about anything else. I don't want anymore interruptions or else you'll be at the top of my to-kill list if I don't get my required thirty minutes of relaxation. So I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay." Gabriel replied, sounding almost dejected as if he was being blown off by a date. "Sorry if I ruined your zen."

He hung up and Sam put his phone on vibrate so there would be no more interruptions.

He ignored the little niggling feeling of guilt that was forming in his chest.

~*~

Sam was reading a rather thick book on the Criminal Justice System and taking notes when his phone rang again and he reached to answer it. He would welcome any sort of distraction right now. "Hello?"

"Sam?"

Sam sighed. "Hey, Gabriel."

"So, about my invite..."

Sam glanced at the book, then at the clock, back to the book then returned his attention to the phone. "You know what? Give me directions to your place. I think I'd rather do anything right now not immediately related to the law."

He could actually hear Gabriel brightening up. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

And with that, the pastry chef started barking out directions and Sam hastily tried to get them on paper. When Gabriel hung up with an excited "See you later!" Sam wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into.

He left a note to Dean, telling him where he went before packing along his Criminal Justice System book into his backpack. He might as well get some studying at Gabriel's place if he can.

Gabriel didn't live very far from their apartment complex and it took Sam only about ten minutes to walk over. He, however, found himself in the posh parts of Palo Alto, where the high-end apartments were situated at. Sam knows how high-end those apartments were. He was looking through them when he and Dean were looking for a place to stay and suffice it to say, even if he and his brother pushed all their money together and created a joint bank account, they still wouldn't be able to afford it.

He looked up at Gabriel's apartment building and there was no other word to describe it but "posh." Gabriel immediately buzzed him in and Sam had to pause at the lobby for a moment to gawk at the rich and tasteful decor.

The pastry chef was outside his apartment when Sam finally stepped off the elevator and was pacing in the hall. He then looked up and his face lit up like a Christmas Tree and Sam found himself being dragged inside a very large apartment. His and Dean's place could fit in here twice and still have some space leftover.

"So make yourself comfy. I'll just check on the tarts I have in the oven." Gabriel told him and Sam plopped down on an incredibly soft couch. He took that moment to look around.

Gabriel's apartment was decorated to be a bachelor's pad and Sam could see that. There was huge TV mounted on the wall opposite the couch and underneath it were two different kinds of game consoles and a DVD/Blu Ray player. Off to the side, there was a shelf stacked with movies and games and little action figures of G.I. Joe. The couch was L-shaped and made of very expensive material and Gabriel even had a bearskin rug that just looked tacky.

The theme was obviously red, white and black. It seemed very chic, but what did Sam know? He was going to be a lawyer, not an interior designer after all.

"Paging for Mister Samuel Winchester. Please proceed to the kitchen immediately. Mister Samuel Winchester, please proceed to the kitchen immediately, thank you." Gabriel's voice wafted from the kitchen and Sam tried not to crack a smile at that. He walked over to the kitchen where the smell of freshly baked tarts assaulted his nose and paused.

Forget the living room. The _kitchen's_ where the action's at.

Sam gawked at the well decked out kitchen. Or bakery.

There was an island in the middle, obviously used for preparation purposes if the stacks of bowls and flour were any indication. Gabriel had two – _two!_ – ovens and he had a huge fridge where he quite probably kept his ingredients. Aside from the mess on the island, the kitchen itself was clean. Sam could see his reflection over every polished surface.

"Ah, you like the kitchen, I see." Gabriel said with a grin. "Well, Sam, let me tell you, it took years before I got a kitchen this advanced. I designed it myself."

"It's..." Sam tried to find the right word. "Nice."

"Well, can't be working in a shitty kitchen, am I right? Plus, I love to experiment. I can't experiment in the restaurant kitchen because Michael will have my hide." He then bends over and pulls a freshly baked tray of tarts from the oven and dear God above they smell heavenly. Gabriel places one on a saucer and holds it out to Sam."Tart?"

Sam takes the saucer and looks at the tart. It seemed like an ordinary tart but there was something...different about it. "What's on this?"

Gabriel grins. "Mocha Chocolate Banana with Cherry. Try it." He handed Sam a fork and Sam took it. He sliced into the tart, blew on it a little before taking a bite.

Sam was pretty sure he was making very pornographic sounds, but he could care less. The tart was _heaven_ and it made him want to sing in an angelic chorus.

He opened his eyes to see Gabriel smiling at him, eyes glinting and Sam felt a tug in his chest when their gazes locked.

He was pretty sure it was because of the tart.

Not because of Gabriel.

Nope.

Not at all.

~*~

Luke noticed something was off the moment he stepped foot in the restaurant.

He looked around for a moment, scrutinizing everything. Balthazar was behind the bar, dancing to his obnoxious music as he fixed the bottles of liquor and glasses for that night. Other than that, there seemed to be absolutely nothing different.

Except, it was there. Luke could _feel_ it. Call him crazy, but he could feel a shift in the air. It was subtle, light and completely invisible to anyone who wasn't as observant as Luke was.

He entered the kitchen, determined to find out what could possibly be causing the shift in the balance of the universe. Michael was at his usual station, preparing the stuff he needs for that night. There was Raphael across from him, taste testing what could possibly be the soup. Gabriel was putting the finishing touches on some mango tarts and the apple crumble pie at his station with Anna helping him. Nothing out of the ordinary there, he figured.

Well, until Sam entered the kitchen that is. Luke noticed Gabriel's gaze snap up immediately and Sam returned the gaze. Gabriel had his usual smirk on, but it seemed softer somehow and there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Sam's mouth. Luke's lip curled into a knowing smirk of his own. Well.

Looks like Cupid struck his mark.

Acting nonchalantly, he made his way over to his station and began preparing for the dinner rush that night. The smirk kept tugging at his lips however and Michael noticed it, giving Luke the glare of "stop – whatever – it – is – you're – planning." Luke merely smirked wider and Michael's eyes narrowed even further, scrutinizing the sous chef's every move, wondering what shenanigan Luke's got up his sleeve this time.

Michael had an inkling it wasn't going to be pretty.


	5. The One With The Smoking Mustang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destiel interactions! :D

There was just something about working with cars that Dean found relaxing. It kept him occupied and it required his full, undivided attention unlike the hustle and bustle of the dinner rush at the restaurant. If Sam took gay ass baths to relax, hand Dean a wrench and a car to work on and he's as happy as a clam. It didn't matter if he was working on a total rust bucket or on some pretentious douchebag's Prius. Just shove him under the hood and he'll get to work and you won't hear a single complaint coming from his mouth.

There were ways to shut Dean Winchester up and fixing cars was one of them.

Today, however, was a slow day at the garage and aside from a few spark plugs needing replacing, there was absolutely nothing to do. He worked on a few junkers, trying to coax them back to life, but even that lost its appeal after awhile. He had four hours to kill until his shift at the restaurant and not even reading Busty Asian Beauties could curb his boredom. Dean was slowly being eaten away by the dull monotony of real life and his fingers itched to touch car parts and grease but no one was pulling up to their garage and that made him sad.

Four hours. Four hours until he was needed in Hell. It's been weeks since they were hired and Dean still hasn't gotten the hang of the dinner rush. Sam, though, the giant girl that he was, managed to get the used to it within a few days. Dean sometimes glowers at him whenever he sees Sam taking orders flawlessly and carrying trays of food over to people without a single accident. It's not fair.

He told this all to Cas, but the dude just stared blankly at him.

And that was another thing. Castiel Novak, the head waiter, in Dean's very humble opinion, was weird. He was weird in a sense that he like came from another plane of existence. He couldn't understand sarcasm, simply gave Dean a blank stare with those otherworldly eyes when he told jokes and took everything too literal. And he had this weird, raspy voice that absolutely did not turn Dean on.

Nope.

No way.

He will keep swimming in De Nile on that issue.

And that brings us to the next issue. The thing was, Castiel, despite his weird nature, was _criminally attractive._ Dean noticed that when they first met and when Cas' weirdly azure eyes centered on him. Cas was attractive in a certain, book-ish, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-my-hair-decided-to-stick-like-that kind of way. Therein lies another issue.

Dean, a long time ago, has made peace with himself that he could possibly be, at the very least, bisexual. And hey, that's cool and all, and he did the requisite "Oh-my-god-I'm-bi" freakout but he never did act on it because, to put it bluntly, he's never found a guy interesting before. And to be honest, he was starting to think twice if he was really bi because no other guy has caught his eye.

Until Castiel.

It seems as if his life right now seemed to all suddenly revolve around Castiel like he was the damn sun.

He needed to take a crowbar to some junkers. Badly.

A cold bottle of beer appeared before him and he looked up. "Seriously? Beer at ten in the morning?"

"I'm hearing this from you." Jo Harvelle, his coworker at the garage, snorted. "Looks like you needed it anyways. Now, who is she?"

"Why do you always assume I'm thinking about someone?" Dean grunted out but took the beer anyways.

"You've got that look on your face." Was all she said. "Now come on, spill."

Dean, in perfect Dean manner, decided to deflect the question. "What look?"

Jo sighed exaggeratedly. "Stop deflecting the question. Who is she?"

"There is no one, okay?" Dean replied defensively. "Geez you're being nagging today."

Jo hits him, and it hurt, but Dean wasn't about to say that a girl was able to hurt him. "Anyways," Jo began. "How's work at the restaurant?"

"Hell." Was all he said before taking another swig of beer.

Jo chuckled. "Well, that's one way to describe it."

Dean just grunted.

"Why don't you quit, then? You're obviously not enjoying it."

Dean bit back his response of _Because the head waiter is a fine piece of ass and I want to hit that_ and instead said: "What, and leave Sammy there all alone? Besides, I need the extra cash anyways. That place pays handsomely."

Jo was about to speak up when a fucking Mustang GT500 pulls up to their garage. Dean got ridiculously excited and shot off his chair like his ass was on fire.

The driver's side door opened to reveal a mop of messy black hair and if it was even possible, Dean's jaw sank to the ground.

"Cas?"

The head waiter of Heaven On Earth jolts around. "Dean?"

"What are you doing here?" They ask at the same time.

"There's something wrong with my car, I was hoping to get it fixed." Cas replied.

"I work here." Dean said at the same time.

They stared at each other for a moment until Jo coughed into her hand, breaking the trance they set themselves into. "I'll just...go and do inventory. You guys do your thing here. Oh, and Dean, we're definitely talking later."

Dean watched her go and he suddenly realized he was all alone. With Cas.

Fuck.

"So," He began. "What seems to be the problem?"

Cas turns back to his car. "I don't exactly know. I was hoping you'd figure it out."

Dean sighed and popped the hood open. Smoke billowed out from the engine and Dean had to look away to get some air into his lungs.

"Jesus, fuck, what the hell!" He exclaimed, waving the smoke out of his face. He gives Cas an incredulous look but Cas just stares back.

"I was unaware it was that bad."

 _"No shit, Sherlock."_ Dean's mind supplied as the smoke mostly cleared out. He just really hoped that the sprinklers won't –

The first splatters of water hit them and Dean cursed. A man can hope, can't he?

Cas gives Dean an apologetic look. "I am so sorry." He said, but the seriousness was ruined by the fact that he's all drenched and wet and Dean suddenly has a vivid image of them in the shower where he pushes Cas up against the tiled wall and –

 _"Goddamnit, Winchester."_ He grumbled in his mind. He was so far gone he can't even see the starting line anymore.

It takes about five minutes for Dean to figure out where the off switch for the sprinklers was and another five minutes just getting himself dry with a grease stained towel before handing it to Cas. "I'm sorry about the grease, but that's the only towel I can find around here."

"It's fine. I can just get a quick shower before the restaurant opens, no problem." He says and wipes the towel on his face. A long, black streak appears on his cheek and Dean has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

"What, is there something on my face?" Cas asks, hands flying towards his cheek and rubbing at the stain which made it even worse.

Dean takes in Cas' drenched form, the grease stain on his cheek and his wildly oblivious look and he starts laughing. Cas, for his part, doesn't realize what's so funny until he catches a glimpse of himself on the car window. He starts chuckling until he's joining Dean in his mirth.

Dean approaches him and proceeds to wipe the grease off Cas' face with the pad of his thumb. It only served to make the mark worse but Cas didn't seem to be complaining.

Instead, Cas looked at him with a huge smile on his face and their gazes lock, blue meeting green.

And goddamn, was Dean gone.

~*~

Dean had to lend Cas a spare change of clothing after all, since the dude voiced his opinion on wearing a drenched trench coat. He dug through some old drawers and pulled out a ratty, Metallica shirt and presented it to Cas. Cas shrugged off his trench coat and his button up shirt and Dean was totally not looking even though his eyes had a mind of their own and roved over Cas' torso. Cas took the shirt and put it on and Dean had to stifle a chuckle at the adorable picture Cas made. The shirt hung loosely on his lithe frame but with all the clavicle and forearm action he was getting, Dean wasn't, y'know, exactly complaining.

Plus, the fact that Cas looked amazing in his clothes had him dreaming of a day where he woke up to Cas wearing his shirts and offering him breakfast in bed and they kiss sensously –

_Goddamnit, keep it cool Winchester._

The Mustang just suffered from a simple case of overheating and Dean pointed out the cause of the smoking engine. It was a quick fix and he showed Cas how to take care of the engine properly so that the episode won't happen again.

Cas had thanked him, tried to pay the cost for fixing the car but Dean wasn't having any of it.

"It's on me, this time. It was an easy fix, no harm no foul." Dean said, and after five more minutes of haggling, Cas finally relented and pocketed his wallet.

"Thank you for the shirt, by the way, Dean." Cas said as he got into his car. "I'll return it to you freshly laundered."

Dean seemed to think for a moment. "Nah, keep it. I've got a lot of shirts around. What's one less, right?"

Cas seemed surprised for a moment before a smile formed on his face. "Thank you."

"No problem, man."

They looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Cas cleared his throat. "I'll see you later?"

Dean nodded and watched as Cas put the Mustang into gear and left the garage.

"You are so into him."

Dean yelped and whirled around to face Jo who had her arms crossed and was smirking up at him. "Jesus, Jo! Make some noise, would ya?"

She just chuckled. "I saw the way you were looking at him, Dean."

Dean frowned at her. "You saw nothing, Harvelle. Don't go pretending you know stuff."

Jo's grin just widened. "I maybe just a girl working at a garage, but I'm not stupid, Winchester. I know when someone's into someone and you fit the bill."

Then, she leaned closer. "And I think he's into you as well."

With that, she left, leaving Dean alone in the empty garage, staring dumbly after her.

~*~

Nobody but Sam knew this, but when Dean was stressed or nervous or just downright confused about things, he either takes a crowbar to some junkers, or, and the more scarier option – he cooks.

Whichever was more convenient really. If there was no nearby junker, he'd take out the pan and spatula and the rest was history.

Sam knew something was up with his brother when he came home from school to find that Dean had a three-course meal set on the table and was still making a nice, big batch of chocolate chip cookies like the ones their mother used to make. Their kitchen, while not as well-stocked or well decked out like the one at the restaurant or at Gabriel's place, had various ingredients strewn around and there was flour on the ceiling.

How the hell was there even flour on the ceiling?

"Dude, what the hell?"

Dean looked up from the batter he was mixing. "Hey, Sammy! Just in time! I made dinner."

He had a crazy look in his eye and Sam was suddenly very scared. "What's going on?"

"What, a big brother can't make dinner for his little brother anymore? What world are we living in nowadays?" Dean asked, overly offended and yep, there was something wrong.

Sam walked over to him and plucked the dough right out of his hands. "Hey!" Dean yelped, suddenly dough-less.

"What's going on, Dean?"

"Why does everyone assume there's something wrong? Gimme the dough, Sammy!" Dean snapped.

Sam kept it out of his reach. "No. Not until you tell me what's up with you."

"There's nothing up with me! You're fucking delusional, Sam, if you think that – !"

"You're cooking, Dean." Sam cut him off. "You don't cook unless you've got something bothering you and there's no salvage yard in sight."

With ninja-like reflexes, Dean snatches the dough from Sam's hands and continues kneading it.

Sam glowers. "Fine! If you want to eat your feelings, go right ahead. Don't say I didn't try to help you."

Dean ignores him and continues kneading the dough before cutting out various shapes and placing them on a baking tray. Sam watches as he meticulously arranges them before popping them into the oven. Dean then turns to Sam with a dark look.

"It's nothing, Sammy. Don't get all worried and mother hen me, okay?"

Sam was a fluent speaker of bullshit so Dean's statement translated into _"Something is wrong, but I don't want anyone to know."_

And Sam was going to find out.


	6. The One Where Michael's An Ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness, I'm so sorry I took awhile. Writer's block. You know how it is.
> 
> Michael and Luke interactions here! I took the liberty of not making Michael a total douchebag because let's face it. He still loves Luke. Luke is his brother and my Michael doesn't let his pride in the way of family.

“Slow night, tonight.” Dean commented as he looked around the restaurant. It was an unusual sight, to see Heaven on Earth not overflowing with people. 

“It is quite unusual.” Cas replied. “But it happens. There are some people who cancel their reservations or don’t make it.”

Sam approached them after having served a group of executives who were digging into their dinner with gusto. “Well, apart from that one customer who said his fish was raw, everything seems okay.”

No sooner than Sam spoke, a loud crash came from the direction of the kitchen, causing everyone to turn their heads. In an instant, Sam, Dean and Cas were all peeking into the windows of the double doors to see what was going on. 

“Oh dear, it’s Michael and Luke fighting. Again.” Cas said. 

“I wonder what it’s about this time.” Sam said aloud.

“Knowing Michael and Luke, it could be anything.” Cas replied. 

“Think we should do something?” Dean asked.

Cas thought for a moment. “If they start punching each other, we can interfere. But for now, let’s let them get it all out. It’s best not to interfere in their fights lest you want to end up in the Emergency room for the night.”

Dean and Sam stared at him before nodding and turning their attention back to the bickering brothers.

~*~

“You’re a fucking prick, you know that?!”

“Oh, I’m the prick here? Need I remind you who messed up in this case, dear brother?!”

Gabriel groaned when his two older brothers started fighting again. This time, it was over a baked salmon that according to one anal customer was too raw for his tastes. Gabriel had grabbed a fork and nicked a small piece of said baked salmon, and despite the fact that he was only a pastry chef, he knew that there was nothing wrong with it. It was baked perfectly to the center and tasted delicious with that lemon-y zing and really, there shouldn’t be anyone to blame. Michael, though, had taken it personally and started lashing out at Luke who was the one who prepared the salmon. The head chef had kept ordering Luke to bake it again and Luke replied, in a voice that was clearly the calm before the storm, that if he baked the salmon any more, it would char to a crisp and would be rendered inedible. Michael didn’t listen and shoved the salmon in the oven himself, and sure enough, five minutes later, it was burnt beyond recognition and Luke had snapped.

Raphael remained silent at his station, preparing the soup of the day and had tuned out the bickering. Anna pretended there was nothing going on as she finished the toppings on the strawberry shortcake while attending to the apple crumble pie that was baking merrily in the oven. Gabriel wanted to intervene but he decided, minutes later, that it was just another one of those fights that Michael and Luke have and there was nothing he could do but to let them get it all out. The pastry chef went back to work, putting the finishing touches on the freshly made batch of creme brulee that they were going to serve that night.

Unfortunately, shit hit the fan minutes later.

“You never do anything right!” Michael screamed with rage. 

Luke, apparently, didn’t like that. “ _I_ don’t do anything right?! You’re the one who insisted to bake the the damned fish again despite the fact that I told you it wouldn’t do any good! You just wanted to save face because _one_ person was being fucking anal about our food!”

“It’s called trying to impress, Luke! You wouldn’t know since you’ve never impressed anybody your entire life!”

Gabriel, Anna and Raphael collectively cringed at the words coming out from Michael’s mouth. If there was anything to get Luke to feel bad, it was to tell him that he wasn’t anything special. True enough, Luke steps back as if he was burnt. 

“Fuck you, Michael.” He hisses, venom in his voice. “Fuck you.” 

He then turns on his heel, removes the apron from his waist and throws it at the head chef who seemed thrown at his lack of retort. 

“Nice job, Mikey.” Gabriel pipes up from where he was observing them. “You fucked up, big time.”

Michael whirls around and glares at him. “I don’t know what his problem is! He’s so...so...”

“Annoying? Stupid? A pain in your ass?”

“Yes!” Michael shouts back. 

Gabriel hums. “I don’t know if you saw it Mikey, but this one’s on you.”

“Whose side are you on, Gabriel?!” 

“I’m not on anyone’s side. Don’t you dare presume things.” Gabriel hisses, putting down the rolling pin he was holding before he bashes it against Michael’s head. “I’m just saying that from the way we viewed things...you’re at fault on this one. You’re having a bad day, sure, but don’t take it out on Luke.”  


Michael was about to say something when Gabriel cut him off. “The salmon wasn’t raw to begin with. If you’ve just took a tiny piece to check for yourself, maybe this could’ve been avoided. That customer was being an anal freak and I know you were just looking for a good excuse to lash out. What’s your problem with Luke anyways? He baked the salmon perfectly yet you still find fault with him. You two used to be so attached at the hip, Michael. I was young but I was observant and I saw how much he meant to you. After all, he was your favorite brother wasn’t he? You loved him more than any of us.”  


“Now that’s not true!” Michael insisted.

“Sorry to break it to you, Michael, but you did.” Raphael spoke up for the first time since the bickering began. Anna chose to remain silent as she was just a cousin and it was none of her business.

Michael, not used to his two younger brothers ganging up on him released a frustrated growl from his lips. He then huffed before lifting a filet knife and went back to work.

Luke never came back that night. He didn’t even come back the next dinner rush and they found themselves incredibly shortstaffed that night. Castiel had to put some _not available_ stickers on some of the dishes on the menu that only Luke could make perfectly.

The atmosphere was tense between them but the dinner rush went off without a hitch. The Winchester brothers knew there was something wrong but decided not to get involved as it wasn’t their drama to begin with. 

Luke didn’t show up the next night either, or the next night. In fact, Luke didn’t show up at work for an entire week and even Chuck was getting worried about his second eldest. Everyone glared at Michael and the head chef continued on as normal as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Chuck then decided to put his foot down and threatened to demote Michael to dishwasher if he didn’t find Luke and fast. Michael grumbled for a few seconds but the serious look on his father’s face had him taking off with his car with vague promises of finding Luke. 

“They’ll kill each other one day.” Chuck moaned out to no one in particular. 

Sometimes, even he wondered what have become of Michael and Luke.

He just hoped they would resolve their problems before he passes on.

~*~  
Finding Luke was...difficult.

Michael remembered when he was younger that he’d call Luke a snake because he was sneaky. Luke  
seemed to like the nickname anyways and called Michael a lion because he was so brave. 

Michael was only eight that day.

That was thirty seven years ago.

Luke was four.

Goddamn where did the time go?

He’s circled the better half of Palo Alto by now and has passed the Stanford campus three times already. Luke’s usual haunts turned up empty and it was nearing dusk when Michael started to get frustrated.

“Goddamnit Luke, where the fuck are you?!” He muttered angrily. He checked at Lucifer’s apartment – empty. He went to that bar across city – nothing. He practically searched every nook and cranny of the city in vain, searching for a brother that didn’t want to be found. 

He succumbed to his thoughts, wondering if Gabriel was right. Was it really his fault? Michael woke up that day on the wrong side of the bed and things seemed to get progressively worse. 

Michael didn’t return home until nighttime, empty-handed and cursing everything that crossed his path.  
He entered the kitchen, trying to be silent so as not to wake his father who was probably sleeping. He rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a cold beer before turning and shrieking promptly at the top of his lungs.

“Jesus, could you be any louder?” Luke asked snarkily as he put the finishing touches on his sandwhich. “You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood.”

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Michael hissed through his teeth, anger returning full force.

Luke just shrugged. “Figured it’d be the last place you’ll look for me.” 

“I searched everywhere for you! I circled the entire city three times!”

Luke eyed him with contempt. “Oh boo hoo for you. You think this is my fault? Well, kiss my ass, Michael, cause I don’t recall ever asking you to look for me.”

“Dad asked me to.”

Luke snorted. “Figures. You’re always a daddy’s boy, aren’t you?”

Michael fumed. “He’s your father too.”

“I know, but I don’t bend to his every whim, Michael. Unlike you. I know what I want and I don’t need my dad to tell me where to go with my life.” Luke snapped back in irritation. “You didn’t even want to become a chef in the first place, but look where you are now, all because Dad had a dream and you didn’t want to disappoint.” 

“Well what about you?” Michael retorted. “I distinctly remember you saying that you didn’t want to become a chef either.”

“I said I didn’t want to work for dad. I wanted to work far far away from him. But no one would hire me. Dad hired me out of pity and you know it.” Luke hissed.

“That’s not true.” Michael replied. “He hired you because he loves you and he wanted to help you.”

“Bullshit. Will you stop defending him?!” Luke roared. “He had a vision – a dream – that all his kids would work for him. Well guess what? It happened. Even Castiel got roped into this and we all know that Head Waiter is just a fancy term for _I have no other position to give you short of a dishwasher so this’ll do._ I needed a job and he just so happens to have a position open for me and swooped in before another restaurant could.”

“Then leave.” Michael forced out. “If you hate it so much here, leave.” 

Luke snarled. “Fine. Maybe I fucking will.”

He then turned on his heel and stormed out of the backdoor, sandwich forgotten on the table.

~*~

It took Michael precisely three seconds to follow him.

He skidded to a halt on the driveway and grabbed Luke’s arm to stop him from leaving. The younger Novak turned narrowed eyes at him and tried to snatch his arm from Michael’s iron-like grip.

“Fucking – let go of me, Michael!” Luke snarled.

“No.” 

“What the hell do you want from me?!”

Michael ran his fingers through his hair exasperatedly before sighing. “I’m sorry.”

That had Luke stopping and turning to face his brother. _“What?”_

Michael gritted his teeth, as if saying two words pained him greatly. “I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry for yelling at you and telling you those things. I was an ass. I admit it, and I’m sorry.”

Luke wasn’t struggling anymore but instead was gaping at his brother, as if wondering if he was dreaming or this was real life. The former seemed a much better option and if it was a dream, Luke wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to wake up. Michael was staring at him, gauging his reaction, emotions flitting across his face in a rapid speed. Luke cannot ever remember a time when Michael apologized to him – ask a dinosaur and he’d say it was before his time – but hearing the simple phrase leave Michael’s lips had Luke absolutely gobsmacked, and if he was using terms that Balthazar used, he was clearly going insane.

Luke hasn’t said anything for awhile now and Michael was starting to get worried that he might’ve broken his brother. He figured though that Luke was probably still trying to process the words and if it were a different situation, Michael would’ve called him slow-witted. The phrase “I’m sorry” hasn’t been uttered by Michael to Luke for a long time and Michael figured it stunned Luke that he was using it. 

“Look,” Michael began. “I was a dick, I realize that, so I’m sorry. Do whatever you want, but I did what I had to do to help me sleep at night.”

He let go of Luke’s arm and headed back inside the house. 

~*~  
“It seems eerily quiet today.” Balthazar mused. Anna snorted at her brother.

“Complete understatement, Balthy. It’s like a ghost town in here.” She replied. 

“Michael and Lucifer have yet to commence their daily showdown. What is going on?”

“It’s the cold war. That’s what’s going on.” Gabriel spoke from behind Anna who didn’t so much as flinch. Gabriel was a sneaky sonovabitch but Anna has learned to keep her cool around her brother and cousins who all unfortunately decided to be boys. 

“What on earth are you wearing, Gabriel?” Balthazar asked and Anna just had to turn to see what her cousin decided to do this time.

She couldn’t help but let her jaw sag to the ground.

Gabriel grinned. “Like it? I made it myself.” 

Gabriel was wearing a very hideous Kiss The Chef apron that was pink and frilly and Balthazar tried to supress the comment that was forming in his mind about Gabriel looking like one of those grannies baking cookies for their grandchildren. If Gabriel was wearing the apron, it must mean things between Michael and Luke were heavy as of the moment because under normal circumstances, Michael would’ve chewed Gabriel out for wearing an inappropriate apron like the customers were gonna see him anyway. If Michael had ignored the horrendously pink apron, there was definitely something wrong.

“What harebrained scheme are you planning now, Gabriel?” Anna asked – well, deadpanned, but whatever. Semantics. – as she took in the horrifyingly pink nightmare.

Gabriel grinned. “I’m so glad you asked, dear cousin Anna. This is Phase One of my _Woo Sam Under My Spell_ plan.”

Balthazar choked on his own spit. “Is Phase One to scare the ever living hell out of him?”

Gabriel glared at him. “Phase One is to get him to notice me.”

“And blinding him with that nightmare is going to accomplish that?” Anna asked incredulously.

Gabriel glowered. “I’ll show both of you. By the end of the week, I’m making Sam mine!”

Balthazar and Anna watched as Gabriel stomped back into the kitchen, pink apron fluttering as he spun around. Balthazar then leaned towards his sister. “Ten bucks says he makes a complete fool out of himself by the end of the week.”

Anna grinned. “He’ll crack by tomorrow.”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “Do we have a wager?”

She grinned even wider, looking decidedly shark like. “You’ve got yourself a bet, brother.”

*

Neither of them won, though they were both so close. By the middle of the week, Gabriel had become crazy and made a complete and utter fool of himself. Sam had taken to avoiding the pastry chef at all costs which made Gabriel pout, sulk, whine and become all the more unbearable. Castiel had to physically restrain Balthazar from bashing Gabriel’s head in with a meat tenderizer when the pastry chef had all but mourned the fact that Sam wasn’t anywhere near falling into his arms. 

In fact, Gabriel was pushing him away more.

It started off small. Little notes with cheesy poems in them that made Sam blush like there was no tomorrow. No harm, no foul. Even Dean had chuckled and told Sam that they were just there to mess with him and to not worry about it. It had seemed like a harmless prank that Sam just had to see the humor in.

However, little notes escalated into premium boxes of chocolates, outrageous gifts that Gabriel couldn’t possibly afford unless he dipped his hands into the restaurant money and if he did, Chuck and Michael _and_ Luke would team up and castrate him, and on one memorable occasion, a singing choir that had the customers happy but Sam blushing to the roots of his hair and leaving early in the middle of the dinner rush. 

The proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back was the huge, stuffed moose that came in the middle of the dinner rush and the courier had told Sam it was for him, courtesy of one Gabriel Novak. Balthazar had slapped his forehead, Castiel had rolled his eyes, Dean was torn between killing Gabriel and comforting Sam and Sam?

Sam had all but run out, leaving the giant moose in the middle of the restaurant.

Chuck had come out to see what the commotion was about but when he saw the stuffed moose, he raised an eyebrow, said “Gabriel” in a voice that was a mix of exasperation and contempt before rolling his eyes and going back into the recesses of his office to never surface for air again. 

Sam avoided Gabriel like he was the plague. Gabriel was hurt. No one sympathized with him.

“This is your mess. Fix it yourself.” Anna told him when Gabriel had wailed at him. She finally took pity on the pastry chef and tried to knock some sense into him.

“I thought he’d like the attention! And the gifts!”

“He’s not some two-dollar whore and you’re not his sugar daddy, Gabriel.” Anna pointed out. “Maybe you should’ve asked him like a normal human being with some sense of decency?”

“But where’s the fun in that?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Fine. It’s your funeral. I promise I’ll be there to tell you how stupid you were when Sam falls for someone who isn’t you because you were too chickenshit to ask him out in a normal way.”

Gabriel turned sad eyes at her. “Did I fuck up badly?”

She sighed. “Nothing you can’t fix. But you better do before he does find someone else.”

Gabriel smiled. “Thanks, Anna.”

“Don’t mention it.” She said. “I mean, seriously, don’t mention it.”

“Consider it done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'll start spewing out information here because I'll need to clear a few things up.
> 
> First of all, some of you might have noticed that Michael and Luke are already in their forties. If you've read chapter 3, there are the age differences there and since Gabriel is already thirty five as I've mentioned, Michael is forty five, Luke is forty one, Raphael is thirty eight and Castiel is twenty eight. And yes, Michael and Luke are both single. I'll insinuate that Raphael is dating someone though it won't have any effect on the overall plot, but I have exciting things in store for Michael and I needed him to be single. As for Luke, I haven't decided who he'll date, but I'll figure it out soon. 
> 
> Second of all, yes, Michael still does live with his father. I figure he has this sense of responsibility for Chuck since I'll say it now, Chuck is already sixty years old. Luke has a place of his own but since he didn't want to be found by Michael, he hid in the one place he knows Michael will never think to look - the old family house. Luke hates the family house thus Michael will never think to look for him there. I hope you guys see the logic in that.
> 
> And yes, I took the liberty of making Michael the bigger man here. He crossed a line he never should have and if in canonverse he's perceived as a loyal soldier with orders, I'm willing to give him a shot because, hey, they're humans here and free will and all. Michael and Luke still have issues to sort out and unlike the canonverse, I want to see if I can have them sort these issues out. This is not a question of loyalty, but simple sibling fights. Luke was never thrown out of the house by Michael. They just grew apart and started griping at each other. Chuck had nothing to do with their falling apart. 
> 
> As for the part where Chuck had a dream or a vision about all his children working for him or with him, I'll expound on that more in the next few chapters. Don't go all apeshit on me about this. There's a reason.
> 
> Thirdly, yes, Anna and Balthazar are siblings. Balthazar and Anna Milton are the cousins to the Novaks so I guess I'll say it now that Balthazar is not a foreigner, but a pure American with a posh accent. As for Gabriel giving Sam outrageous gifts, he would definitely go all out and Sam would definitely be more embarassed. I'll be focusing on the Sabriel side of things first alongside with the Destiel side of things. That's all I'll say for now so I hoped you guys enjoyed this chapter and I'm sorry if it took a long time for me to update. 
> 
> xxsv1995


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